#but if anyone wants to put a proper coloring on this hit me up and i'll send you the lines? i'd love to see this properly done

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for letting my dog correct (nip) my niece to prove a point and refusing to punish him?

I own an ex-K9 called Biggles. Biggles is impeccably trained, a total gentleman when you're not being an asshole to him, but also has no time for your bullshit. He'll tolerate a lot more hassle from the younger kids in our family, but if they're allowed to persist in bullying him, he will correct them, just like he would the adults of the family.

Mostly Biggles will just push them over and walk away. Its his way of saying to leave him alone. Sometimes he'll bark loudly, a kind of 'fuck off now' bark. At the very extreme, he'll give them a tiny little warning nip on the arm or hand.

(Biggles has only ever nip corrected kids twice in all the years I've had him. Once when my cousin thought it was 'cute' to dump her toddler right on top of Biggles and let him rip at his fur and try to bite at his face, and once when my nephew was having a tantrum, Biggles tried to snuggle up to him to soothe him and my nephew hit him in the face.)

I firmly believe in learning how your pet communicates and respecting their reasonable boundaries. To me, if you're yanking on a dog's tail and ignoring everyone warning you to stop and you get a nip to the back of the hand for it, that's a valid consequence of your actions and you've just learned to respect the dog enough not to try pulling its tail out of its spine.

(This likely seems unfathomable to a lot of you, but I must clarify that Biggles isn't some hyper-reactive aggressive, dangerous dog like my sister thinks. He will more than happily play around with the little ones, faux wrestle with them, let them paw all over him and fuss at him, ect. He loves children, they're his babies. He does not love being in pain, and if the person causing it will not respect him or me enough to listen to my warnings, I believe they earn it when he warns them too.)

Anyway. Like you might've guessed, yanking on his tail was what my niece was doing at the beer-and-barbeque this weekend. I told her not to. My parents told her not to. Even my sister half-assedly suggested 'maybe Biggles wants to play a different game.' Biggles got up and moved away from her twice and she followed him both times to 'keep playing.'

My entire family knows how Biggles works. I warned my sister Biggles wouldn't tolerate what was happening. My sister told me I shouldn't own such a dangerous, unpredictable dog and he should be put down if he can't handle some 'rough love from a kid.'

(This was not rough love. This was my niece literally ripping at his tail thinking his pain responses were funny.)

I didn't want to cause a scene or subject Biggles to further harassment so I decided just once I'd cave and take Biggles inside so he could get some peace and I could enjoy my burnt ends without my sister squealing in my ear about being cruel to her child by telling her off.

Unfortunately, Biggles' patience ran out before I could make my way over. My niece yanked at his tail again, hard enough that it actually jolted him on the grass, and Biggles whipped around and nipped at her hand. I got to see her hand afterward and there was just a little red mark, no blood or broken skin. He'd just pinched her a little.

My niece screamed bloody murder like he'd taken her hand off and my sister screamed bloody murder about my 'vicious animal.' It devolved into a massive family-wide argument against my sister because my entire family knows its just basic respect and kindness not to cause an animal pain deliberately, and that its my sister's fault for not listening to anyone when we all told her and my niece not to hurt Biggles.

My sister stormed off and has since been blowing up the entire family demanding that Biggles be put down. She's threatened to call the cops, animal control, you name it. None of us are worried about that. There wasn't even a proper mark left on her hand and Biggles will pass any behavioral test with flying colors, but my sister is giving everyone grief and is refusing to attend any family events if Biggles will be there.

My dad is firmly on my side, but my mom is imploring me to just fake apologise to get some peace back. When I recounted the story to my colleague this morning, he said she got what she earned, but also why would I bring Biggles to an event I knew a disrespectful little shit of a kid was at?

I don't feel like an asshole in terms of allowing my dog to establish his boundaries. In my and my family's opinion pets are their own entities and should be treated with belonging and respect when part of a family. Its also just common sense not to cause an animal pain for the fun of it.

However, I'm also very aware that getting nipped by a dog, especially at such a young age, can be catastrophic. My niece could be terrified of dogs for the rest of her life, and while I don't feel guilty she got corrected, I do feel somewhat guilty that I didn't intervene sooner and have possibly set her up for failure in the future. And I do feel like an asshole for letting it get to that point, but it did all happen pretty quickly.

All things considered I do love my niece, she's family, she just gets away with murder because my sister thinks being a little girl is an automatic pass to do whatever you want without consequence.

I've probably painted Biggles out in a real bad light here, but I can assure you that in general Biggles is the perfect family dog. He's loving, playful, he tries to share his kibble with everyone at dinner, he helped us teach my uncle's puppy tricks and how to behave and potty outside ect.

So I guess I'm really asking am I the asshole in this situation, as the one responsible for Biggles?

What are these acronyms?

[imperator-titus]

Some personal Astarion headcanons because I'm bored.

Some are rooted in my experience as a player or digging in the files, some might be from other player discussions, and others are purely made up. I don't take any of it seriously

Astarion is not ORIGINALLY from Baldur's Gate. Where is he from? idk. I don't know that much about Forgotten Realms/DnD. But I think Cazador is too smart and paranoid to not vet his potential spawn, if they were Baldurian they'd have to be "forgettable" and it seems unlikely anyone in the Gate is forgetting Astarion. I think it was smart for them to nix the Noble background for Astarion because of this, although he could be a noble from somewhere outside of the Sword Coast.

That being said, Cazador compelled Astarion to forget everything about himself from before he was a spawn, so to spawn Astarion, he IS Baldurian and after 200+ years, he blends right in.

Astarion came to the Gate as a fresh-faced adventurer rogue, which explains... being a rogue. Why? I don't have a real why, I've considered everything from "rebelling/getting away from his family" to "for fun, maybe his family is full of retired adventurers"

"I was a magistrate" was one of many stories to lure victims. Even if he was for even a brief time, I don't think he'd remember that. also possible Cazador told him that.

Astarion may not have been the only one luring people back with sex but I think he learned it was the most effective way. When you're getting tortured for failure, it doesn't matter if success turns your stomach.

Cazador carefully seduced Astarion, but not with the promise of eternal life. His resemblance to Vellioth caught Cazador's attention. Cazador lured him with promises of patronage or just good ole "rich powerful man wants me?" energy. Cazador attacked Astarion himself and sold him a lie that Gur (easy to blame, as they are widely disliked and considered barbaric) attacked him.

The graveyard Astarion was buried in is small and has a mix of noble mausoleums and paupers' graves. Likely Cazador had enough sway and money, through a intermediary ("oh, the poor boy, Lord Cazador hired him for tasks and he did so well, what a tragedy"), to get Astarion an expedited burial with no questions (seeing as anyone with eyes can see he's got 2 big bite marks in his neck). Astarion says he's never been there since he came out the first time, but I believe Cazador has put him back in there on occasion as punishment (along with putting him in a proper tomb, possibly borrowed from the Hhunes), he just represses it. That's why Cazador keeps the plot and headstone, to torture him, but it remains overgrown.

Astarion's original hair color is silver, but it was a bit more lustrous, and his skin was already fairly pale but now it doesn't have the glow of life/blood (and they should have picked a paler skin tone, but it is what it is). I know that this would probably make him a Moon Elf, who commonly have blue or green eyes, and while I love me some vibrant blue or green eyes... I am a "golden brown" fan, sorry. They looked dark while in the shade and turn golden when hit by the light. I really enjoy the brown hair/brown eyes fanart and edits though, good job everyone

They say vampires feel only hunger. They are paranoid, loveless, and cruel. They believe they are superior to all living creatures, even the spawn. In a fucked up weird way, Cazador really did love Astarion and his spawn (but especially Astarion) and believe they were like family. The Szarrs were a vampiric family in blood and... well, more blood. Cazador took out his hate and twisted love for his master Vellioth on Astarion. Cazador hated that Astarion constantly wriggled out of his grasp, testing him. Sometimes Astarion would play along just to get Cazador to cool off, but Cazador would find out it was a lie and punish him harder for "breaking his heart."

Astarion is THE MOST self-interested person in the party and it's perfect that he is. He is paranoid, hungry, cruel, and superior. He needs to get back as SOON as possible to Baldur's Gate because Cazador will probably scalp him and hammer bamboo shoots under his fingernails for disappearing. Then he realizes that he could feasibly BEAT Cazador and the sooner it happens, the better. Stop helping orphans, I need to get home, tick-tock! He also has no foresight, even though that would be a GREAT trait for a fucking ROGUE. He wants you to stop helping and saving people even though they will help you in the future because he projects his own personality on others: they're selfish and won't do shit for you.

I could probably go on forever but I've forgotten some things at this point. I'm supposed to be doing math right now.

[anticomedygarden]

they all want your white body

5 times Alex defends Henry (and Henry is pleasantly surprised) (though he should really know better by now) + 1 time Henry defends Alex (and Alex isn't surprised) (because no matter what anyone says, Henry is the goddamn bravest man he's ever met)

title is from billy joel's 'everybody loves you now'. the whole quote i wanted to use for the title was, "they all want your white body/and they await your reply/but between you and me and the Staten Island Ferry/so do I," but i figured that was too long

cross-posted on ao3

-

1. The Charity Gala

As much as Henry wished he could pretend he didn't know the man walking toward him, he knew that once those beady eyes latched onto him, there would be no escaping Mr. George Blackwell.

He had just enough time to whisper, "Run while you still can," into Alex's ear before Blackwell was upon them in all his glinting golden glory. Honestly, where did he find all that precious metal? "Ah, Mr. Blackwell. I'm glad you could make it," Henry bit out, raising his champagne flute to his lips and suddenly wishing for something a bit stronger. His words were at least a kernel of the truth for the man's only redeeming quality at functions such as this was his extensive bank account.

Blackwell gave him a once over. "Yes, good evening, Your Royal Highness." He turned to Alex. "And this must be-"

"Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry's boyfriend," Alex interrupted, causing Blackwell's face to take on a delightful red color. When Alex stuck his hand out for a handshake, Blackwell hesitated but eventually took it for a fraction of a second.

"That's lovely." He turned back to Henry. "Say, did you hear that George Jr. just finished his enlistment?"

Henry put on his camera smile, the one Alex hated so much, and said, "Is that so?"

Blackwell nodded and continued to prattle on about his son and his particularly bland life with his particularly bland job after his particularly bland whatever, and Henry tuned him out, instead choosing to rub Alex's inner thigh under the safety of the table cloth, at least until one jab broke through the reverie.

"...But it's such a shame nowadays that some men won't take up their proper place to enlist. Real men are becoming few and far between."

Henry nearly rolled his eyes, unfazed by the unoriginal insult.

What did surprise him was Alex. The dark haired man set down his drink, leaned forward, and said, "You're right; it is a shame." Henry raised his eyebrows at him, but Alex didn't stop. "It's a real shame that men still think their masculinity is in jeopardy if they don't have enough dominance over other people."

Blackwell spluttered, but, again, Alex continued. "No, really, I'm so glad a huge chunk of the government's budget is going toward ensuring men like you can get off feeling superior to not just everyone else in your country, but everyone else in the whole world."

Henry didn't think his eyebrows could go any higher, but one look at Blackwell had them trying. Nevertheless, he thought it might be a good idea to take Alex out before he goaded this man into a fist fight.

"I'm ready to go, Alex. How about you?"

Alex glanced at him sheepishly, not looking a bit apologetic, and, honestly, Henry didn't want him to be. Watching Alex argue with bigots only got more fun the longer they were together.

The second they were out in the hall, they both broke down in laughter. Henry could hardly breathe.

"God, did you see his face?" Alex gasped.

Henry nodded, still laughing. "I thought he might hit you!"

"No way he was gonna punch me, not with witnesses."

Henry shook his head, though he was smiling. "I love you so much."

Alex put his hands on Henry's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. "I love you, too."

2. Philip

Henry woke to an empty bed.

Groaning, he flopped his arm across Alex's side in the hopes that his boyfriend was somewhere over there but regretfully came up with nothing.

He decided on a different approach. "Alex?"

There was no answer.

He really didn't want to get up.

David clearly didn't either as he had burrowed into Alex's empty nest of blankets.

Henry got up.

Groggily, he meandered around the upstairs, and, determining Alex wasn't up there, he walked slowly down the stairs and stopped when he heard Alex's voice, tense and angry.

"No, we're not going to do that," he was saying. "No - stop - stop talking...You're not listening to me! We're not doing that because we're not your happy little queers to parade around when you need media points, Philip!"

Ah. Henry sat down on the stairs. This was sure to be an interesting conversation, one that wouldn't make him feel guilty at all.

"Yes, it is. Whether you like it or not, that's exactly what you're trying to do."

There was a moment of silence as Philip said his piece.

"I don't care what your Gran thinks."

Oh, Philip was sure to love that.

"How the hell is this our fault, Philip?  You want to control the tabloids? Get better libel laws."

There was the sound of something being slammed on the counter, and then Alex appeared at the bottom of the stair case. He did a double take. "How long have you been sitting there?"

Henry rested his elbow on his knee and his head in his hand. "Long enough. How long have you been up?"

"Only since Philip called, so about a half hour."

Henry winced. "I'm so sorry."

But Alex waved him off. "It's fine. You know how much I love yelling at people for you."

"Still." Henry hummed, then something occurred to him. "Did Philip call you directly?"

It would be incredibly odd if he had. For one, the two had always had a contentious relationship, barely speaking to each other when they were forced to and certainly never going out of their way to converse. For another, Philip knew full well that Henry would be far more willing to lie down and take whatever he had to say.

Alex shook his head. "Your phone started ringing, and I thought it was mine. I didn't want to wake you up."

Henry really should be used to it by now, how considering and amazing Alex was, but it still surprised him every time.

He got up and walked down the stairs, right into Alex's waiting arms. "Thank you for yelling at Philip for me, darling."

"Anytime, sweetheart." They stood there for a moment. "Let's have waffles for breakfast."

"Alright." They broke apart and began gathering the stuff for breakfast. "What did Philip want?"

Alex didn't look up. "Nothing important."

3. The Crown

Merely a week after his and Alex's engagement was released to the public, Henry came home from work to discover a ridiculously large envelope addressed from the Crown stuffed in their mailbox.

Had it been any other day, Henry would have waited until Alex got home to open it to, you know, preserve his mental health, but on this particular day, Alex wouldn't be home for several hours at least, and he was still riding the high from being newly engaged, so he opened it.

That was his first mistake.

His second was attempting to sift through the pages and pages of legal documents and wedding information after a full workday without caffeine in his system.

Immediately, he got a sick feeling in his stomach, the same feeling he used to get when Philip came to Kensington or when news came of Gran delivering her orders. The Crown was trying to control every last aspect of their wedding, from location to color scheme to wedding party.

He was just starting to feel the beginnings of a migraine when his eyes caught on one sentence in particular.

You are to live in Kensington once the honeymoon is over.

No.

They would have to give up everything they had worked for in New York. Alex would never be a politician or a lawyer. They would have to leave the brownstone permanently. No more dreams of a ceremony in Texas.

Just like that, Henry was done. He crossed his arms on the kitchen table and laid his head down. In the back of his head, he pulled out a thought he had been entertaining for weeks now, ever since he'd decided to propose.

There was the sound of the front door opening and shutting, and then David skittered into the foyer, presumably to bring Alex to Henry.

Sure enough, the next thing Henry heard was Alex entering the kitchen. He still didn't raise his head.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong?"

Henry felt tears prick at his eyes. How could he be so horrible, subjecting his wonderful fiance to people like this, people who were so determined to make them suffer?

A hand began carding through his hair, and he heard Alex start pulling papers toward him to examine.

The hand in his hair stopped, and Henry whined. Alex must've figured out what the papers were for because he didn't acknowledge his fiance's groans.

"This is bullshit, babe," Alex said, voice sounding incredibly restrained. Henry appreciated that Alex was trying to remain calm for him, but he'd honestly rather Alex be screaming. It's what he deserved. "They can't force us to do anything."

Henry laughed humorlessly. "As long as it's a royal wedding, they own it."

Alex shook his head. "Fuck 'em-"

"That's not how it works," Henry explained. "They'll make you convert to Anglicanism." His voice dropped. "They'll make us move."

His third mistake was believing the Crown could control him, or, better yet, Alex.

"Fuck that, babe. We can do whatever we want. We can fly to Vegas and elope under the ministrations of fucking Elvis-"

Alex continued like that for a while, and as Henry watched the man he loved most in the world nearly knock over their salt shaker as he gesticulated wildly, Henry knew what he wanted to do.

"I want to abdicate," he said.

Alex stopped suddenly, mouth open, hands still in the air. "You what?"

Henry sat up finally and looked Alex in the eyes. "I want to abdicate."

Looking a bit lost, Alex cleared his throat. "Okay, not that I don't fully support this, but," he paused. "If you're just doing this because of the wedding, there are other options. I wasn't kidding about Vegas-"

Henry shook his head, a fond look on his face. "No, I've been thinking about this for a while. I don't want the Crown holding themselves over us for the rest of our lives. First this, then what? When we have kids, they'll try and force us into surrogacy to preserve the line of succession. They'll fight you on all of your political opinions. We'll never get a break. At least this way, there'll be some degree of separation." He stopped himself, afraid he'd work himself up into crying again.

Alex took Henry's hands then and pulled him closer so he could whisper in his ear. "You're sure?"

Henry nodded, and Alex twisted so he was sitting in his lap. "Well, alright then."

4. Twitter

The article was a joke. It was the kind of thing one was only supposed to see at the checkout of a grocery store, but somehow, the internet got a hold of it, and now it was plastered on every social media site everywhere.

But seriously, who would believe that Henry has murdered someone? All of Twitter, apparently, because he had been getting notifications about it all day, even though he was the least likely of all the royal siblings (and the Super Six, really), to murder someone. The article didn't even name the person he had supposedly killed, simply saying it was a boy from Eton.

Henry tried to tell Alex it was just another rumor that would die out in a week, especially with as ridiculous as it was, but Alex insisted on saying something. At least Henry had convinced him not to address it directly, knowing acknowledging it would only give it power.

In the end, Henry turned off Twitter for a week and put Shaan in charge of his phone.

When he finally looked at Twitter again, the first thing he saw was a post from Alex.

[image of Henry reading on the couch with David curled on his stomach]

Happy Tuesday to the most amazing person I've ever met. Hen, I'll stand by you in everything you do because you've never done anything wrong in your life. Love you, sweetheart!

Little shit.

5. Henry himself

As soon as Henry woke up, he knew it was going to be a bad day. The distance from the bed to the hallway seemed like infinity, and he barely found the strength to roll over. Alex was nowhere to be found, and Henry hoped he would be gone at least until Henry mustered the energy to at least leave the bed. He hated people seeing him like this, even if having Alex here would probably make.him feel so much better.

He laid there for another hour? Two hours? Henry didn't know, but at some point, Alex quietly opened the bedroom door and came to sit next to Henry.

"Hey, sweetheart. How you feeling?" He set something on the bedside table and turned back to Henry, carding his fingers through his hair. "And don't lie."

Henry blinked his eyes open, awed that Alex knew something was wrong before Henry had even woken up. "Not great."

Alex hummed. "I brought you tea and Jaffa Cakes for whenever you're ready." He stood from the bed, and Henry watched him walk around to the other side. He closed his eyes and felt the bed dip as Alex laid down, curling around Henry in a parenthesis.

"How did you know?" Henry whispered, finding himself caring more about the answer than he really has any right to.

Alex made a confused noise. "Babe, it's 1:30." Henry didn't have it in him to be surprised, but he was sure when he was feeling better, it would hit him hard. "I figured you were either feeling bad or coming down with something."

An arm came down around Henry's middle. "I'm sorry. I know this isn't easy for you."

Alex shook his head against Henry's back. "It's the easiest thing in the world, sweetheart."

+1. The Queen

"I simply cannot allow this. You will release a statement in the morning rescinding the announcement.

Alex didn't have to look at the queen to know she had that stupid little smug look on her face, the one that meant she was being a bitch, a bitch to her grandchildren no less.

Alex also didn't have to look at Henry to know that he had one of his various press faces on, the one that signaled practiced neutrality. It was better than the press smile, but not by much.

"No, they won't be doing that," Catherine said. "For one, you can't control whether or not they're engaged." That's great, Alex thought, except she actually could. "Ignoring that, they can't rescind now without you coming off horribly in the press."

Again, that would be great if she didn't believe the entirety of the UK's population were huge homophobes, something Alex would say if he could get a word in without being interrupted by a certain someone.

Mary started again. "The country is simply not ready-"

Suddenly, Henry clutched Alex's thigh hard enough to elicit a gasp, and everyone's eyes turned to them. "That's enough."

And, holy shit, Alex's jaw fucking dropped because Henry just interrupted the queen of England. Well. Alex had always wondered what being beheaded felt like.

Mary opened her mouth to say something, but Henry held up a hand. Yep, they were 100% dead. "No, I've sat here and listened for long enough. You know what I came here to tell you today?" He took a deep breath, and, alright, this wasn't how they'd discussed breaking the news, but, apparently, this was happening. "I'm abdicating."

The room went silent as everyone processed the news. Bea, of course, already knew, and simply sipped her coke, but Philip's face was completely white. Catherine's eyes were wide, betraying a glint of pride. Queen Mary, though-

"Over him?" she said, poise slipping minutely. "You would give up your birthright and embarrass your family for this American man?"

She said it with such disdain that Alex tried not to be offended, and he had to try even harder to keep his mouth shut.

Henry, it seemed, was not taking the same precautions. Alex squeezed his hand in support. "Yes, Gran, I would." He stood, taking Alex with him. "I love him, and I don't want to have to hide my whole life. I don't need your prejudice. I'm done."

With that, he dragged Alex from the room, leaving behind the open mouthed stares. As soon as they were out in the hall, Alex had Henry up against the wall, mouths pressed together. It wasn't nearly the sexiest place or situation they'd ever been in, but goddamn if Alex wasn't hard as a rock.

"I love you so much," he murmured into his fiance's mouth. "You're so damn brave."

Henry pulled back abruptly to burrow his head in Alex's neck, and Alex brought up a hand to rub his back. "You did amazing in there."

For a second, Alex thought Henry was about to start crying, until he whispered, "It's all because of you."

That really made Alex's heart swell. It was too bad it was wrong. "No, sweetheart. That's all you."

[delopsia]

If You'll Have Me | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: If anyone were to walk in right now, you fear they might just faint from the sight of the Kingdom's beloved heir to the throne being dicked down within an inch of their life. Cross Posted Here on AO3 Word Count: 4,000 Warnings & Notes: 18+, Oral, unprotected sex, afab!reader, royalty au.

Truly, you shouldn't have been able to get away with this for as long as you have.

"Just one more ball," you always plead, "just one more party; I just know he's out there somewhere; I just haven't found him yet."

And for some reason, the King, your father, always obliges. Always puts up this front that makes you wonder if he's finally, truly become fed up with your antics, but then the invitations start getting sent out. The servants start their fussing over decorations and themes, and the palace chefs start bugging you about which exquisite dishes to serve next.

No heir to the throne should have so many balls to find a suitor, and yet here you are, standing at the base of the grand staircase for the nineteenth time, wearing the nineteenth garment sewn and crafted just for this occasion.

There is not an inch of space on the ballroom floor; you've held large events before, but never this large. So many faces, both familiar and new ones; you're pretty sure that's Natasha you see chatting up one of the knights over in the corner.

"I don't suppose you've found someone to dance with?"

You know that voice.

Tilting your head, you spot your favorite assistant idling next to the stairs; he must have just gotten here because you didn't see him while on your descent to the main floor, "hi, Bob Bob."

His cheeks flush, the color a sharp contrast against the crisp navy blue suit he wears; it doesn't slip your mind that he's specifically chosen a color that matches your own garb. It's a wonder he's even your assistant at all; he certainly has the body and intelligence to be one of your personal guards.

"You didn't answer my question," he says as he draws closer, taking up the space on your right.

Your tongue swipes out to wet your bottom lip as you hum, feigning deep thought, "I might have."

It is by no mistake that your hand finds his, disappearing in his grasp as you nonchalantly tug him across the ballroom floor. Bob doesn't attempt to protest when your free hand finds the handle to the linen closet, barely even seeming surprised when you push him up against the wall the moment the door has been locked.

"We're gonna get caught one of these days," he warns, and yet his hands are finding their favorite places on you. One cradles your cheek, guiding your eager lips to meet his own; the other finds the small of your back, presses just enough to draw your body flush against him.

It's gentle, the way he kisses you, careful in the way his lips tangle with your own, and it's enough to make you dizzy and frustrate you that he manages to remain composed even when he knows what you're about to do. Your hands find the thick material of his blazer, knotting in it and using it as leverage to pull him closer.

He groans, turning on his heel, and in one swift motion, your back hits the cold wall. He's crowding your senses; all you can think, all you know, is you want him, and when your mouth parts in a gasp, his hot tongue slips inside. It's not fair. It's not fair that he knows exactly how to wrap his tongue around yours, dancing in lewd circles that have your thighs clenching together.

"You need it that much, hm?" He murmurs into your mouth, panting softly.

All you can do is nod, taking your opportunity to roll your hips up into his; fuck, he's hard. He moans, calloused hands landing on your thighs, and he's lifting you until your legs have wrapped around his waist. Now, he can grind into you proper, thick, clothed length, rubbing against you in such a way it has you gasping.

"What's your suitor gonna say," tongue laving at a sensitive spot under your ear, "when he finds out you've already been broken in by your servant?"

"You say that," you grumble as his teeth catch the shell of your ear, "when we both know you're the only suitor I want."

There's a pause, and his glasses slide down his nose as he glances up at you. Okay, so maybe he hadn't known that after all.

It's this freeze that gives you the opportunity to slip down from his hips; his back hits the wall so easily that you're almost concerned he's quit functioning. He comes to life when you begin sinking to your knees, kissing and licking down his pale, exposed neck as you do so. Fingers curl around the back of your head, finding purchase against your scalp as you free him from his slacks.

His cock is heavy in your palm, thick and leaking; just the knowledge of you being the one to make him like this makes you squirm. Noise just outside the door reminds you that you aren't the only people in this castle; in fact, there are hundreds of people gathered out there, all for you, and yet here you are on your knees for your assistant.

The moment your tongue meets the base of his cock, he twitches; squirms as your tongue drags up, up up, until it can properly swirl around his sensitive head. You reckon you could get him off just by doing this, but you'll have to save that for a day when you have more time. Right now, all you can think about is getting him in your mouth.

"Good lord," he gasps quietly.

Bob isn't the biggest guy you've ever seen, but you can already feel the ache that's going to bloom in your jaw as your lips wrap around him. Your gag reflex has never been good to you; you can only comfortably take him about halfway down. He whines into the back of his hand regardless, thumb swiping up and down your temple as your head begins to bob.

He's still too quiet for your liking; breathing hard through your nose, you relax your throat the best you can and push yourself just a little further down.

"God, darlin'." There it is.

The thick head of his cock hits the back of your throat with every downward motion; your eyes water as you fight the urge to gag—curse whatever divine force that decided gag reflexes were a good idea.

"What would your mother say," Bob's hips twitch up into your throat, pushing just a little further into your throat, "if she knew her baby was sucking a commoner's cock like this, hm?"

All you can do is whine, swallowing languidly around him, and God, he jolts like a live wire, swearing under his breath when you do it again. He unintentionally delves further down your throat, and now you're gagging a bit, but you're far too stubborn to give up when you've gotten this far.

Hot tears spill over, blurring your vision; his little whines are growing louder, keening high in his throat as he repeatedly hits your plush throat. He's close—just a little bit more, just a little further down.

"I'm close," he warns, but it falls on deaf ears. You want this; you need this. You didn't beg your father for just one more suitor ball for nothing.

So you hum, the best confirmation you can give. As soon as your eyes flicker up, your eyes are meeting, and he's pushing on your shoulders, pulling you back as far as he can. But God, you're stubborn, and you fight him.

Hot, salty cum hits your tongue as you take him back down, filling your eager mouth with everything he has to give you. You make sure he's still looking you in the eye when you swallow, pulling off him with a soft 'pop' that tears through the quiet little linen closet.

"Did you...?" To which you open your mouth; the back of his head hits the wall, "Jesus, you did."

There's a newfound soreness in your knees as you sit back on your haunches, tucking him back into his clothes as if nothing had ever happened. But nothing compares to the ache that's settled in your jaw, incessant and biting at you with a force to be reckoned with. Bobs hands cradle your cheeks, bringing you back to your feet so he can kiss you again.

"You're too good to me, sweetheart," thumbs massage at your sore jaws. You've only ever complained about your jaw hurting once, a year and a half ago when you'd first started this, and yet he still remembers.

"I was being serious," referring to earlier, "you're the only man I want."

Bobs bottom lip trembles as he works up a reply, but you don't get to hear it. As soon as his lips part, there's a knock on the door.

"Your majesty, are you in there?" It's just one of the palace servants, but for a second, you feared it was your father on the other side of the door.

You have no choice but to smooth out your dress and open the door. You can't argue with the servants, not when they answer to your parents. The last thing you need to do is anger one of them and make them spill what they know to your father; tell him you've been sneaking off with your assistant and performing unholy acts behind closed doors.

"Give me a few minutes," Bob murmurs in your ear, "I need to do something, and then I'll make good on my promises."

Which promise he's referring to, you can't tell, but he leaves you with the ghost of a kiss and a purpose in his step. For a second time, you've been left by yourself in this big crowd of faces, but this time, you're acutely aware of the lingering taste of semen in your mouth.

Not how you thought tonight would go, but you suppose you'll take it.

It's not long before someone whisks you off your feet, spinning you around the dance floor as the same old music plays; you've memorized this dance, and even the sloppiness of this man's footwork cannot ruin your good spirits. Your toes just might go on strike if he steps on them one more time, though.

"So what is it that prevents you from choosing your King?" no name asks you, and the only thing you can focus on is how ridiculous his beard looks; it looks like something a rodent would build and live in. Hell, one might be living in there right now.

"Just waiting on the right man," you're speaking off the top of your head; you can't remember any of the made-up tales you've been telling anyone that asks, "I can't just marry the first man I meet."

Anything to avoid telling him that you're not interested in men wearing a rat's nest on their neck.

He's saying something to you, but you don't register what it is. There's no point in it, not when the music changes and suddenly, warm hands are taking you by the waist, stealing you out from under him in one swift motion. 

"And here I was," Bob chuckles as he spins you around, "rushing because I was worried my baby would get lonely."

As you come to face him, your noses bump together. "I just can't seem to keep the men off me," feigning ignorance, speaking in the sweetest tone you can muster; for a commoner, Bob dances exceptionally well. He almost puts you to shame.

Almost.

The next step in the choreography forces you to step even closer, your foot landing between his, and he takes advantage of it. "Don't suppose he knew," another step to the left, "that just a few minutes ago, that pretty little mouth of yours was wrapped around my cock." 

Now it's your turn to go pink in the cheeks. 

There's a new confidence about him, fueled by a post-orgasmic haze and the simple knowledge that out of all these men and women, you only have eyes for him. 

As the song comes to an end, he tilts your head to meet his eye. "What do you say we get out of here?" 

When you nod your consent, you don't expect him to move as quickly as he does. With his arm wrapped around your waist, he guides you through the crowd and into a clearing in the main hallway. Up, up the stairs, and you swear you would have tripped if he hadn't had such a firm grip on you. Stupid fancy shoes and their awkwardly placed heel.

"And here I thought we were sneaking out and running away to live happily ever after." You find saying as your bedroom door grows closer and closer. It can't be that he's taking you anywhere other than your room; it's the only room in this dead-end corridor. 

"And I will," squeezing your hip bone as he opens the door, "tomorrow."

You open your mouth to speak, but you're cut off as Bob's lips meet yours, still moving, backing you up until the backs of your knees are hitting the bed, and you're falling back with a soft yelp. 

"Tonight, I'm gonna take care of you."

For a second, he hesitates. As if he isn't sure about where to start. You reach out for him, and he's more than happy to come down and kiss you, settling between your parted legs as he does so. 

You don't know how, but he's hard again, pressing against the sensitive space between your thighs as if he hadn't just cum in your mouth just twenty minutes ago. Muscled forearms settle on either side of you, cadging you in as he kisses you, his firm chest pressed against yours.

In this quiet, dark little room, you finally have the chance to focus. He smells like leather and sugar; the leather you recognize from his cologne, the sugar you know must come from the time he spends working in the kitchens. His tongue tastes vaguely of peppermint; you're almost confident he snuck one of the mint candies when he took off earlier. 

He pauses for a moment, and when your eyes flutter open, he smiles, "just relax for me," leaning down to pepper kisses down your neck, "let me make you feel good, for a change." 

You've done this many times before, but you don't recall it ever being quite like this. Can't recall a time when he let himself take control, allowed himself the simple pleasure of sucking marks into the thin skin of your neck. You can already feel one bruising, sure to turn a deep purple come morning. 

Wandering fingers slip under your outfit, nails dragging up, up, up, then down again. Bob only pulls away to help you out of your clothes; his blazer and dress shirt goes with them, landing in a messy heap on the floor. 

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," you mutter under your breath. 

Bob has absolutely no right to be built so nicely, defined in all the right places, firm but not too much so. If he weren't so shy, you'd ask him never to wear a shirt again.

He pouts, "stole my line." 

Those wandering fingers are back, tracing up your sensitive sides and circling around your already-hardening nipples. There's a noise in the hallway outside, and you're distracted just enough that you don't realize he's leaning down until his lips wrap around one, tongue swirling around the bud, sucking lightly. 

"Ah—" oh, oh, okay. He's better at that than you thought he was.

Bob chuckles, kissing his way to the other one to give it much of the same treatment. You think you could die happy right here if it weren't for the heat pooling between your legs. A heat that builds higher and higher as he makes his way lower, leaving little red marks in his wake. Fingers curl under the band of your underwear. Blue eyes flicker up to you.

You lift your hips, and that's all he needs to slide them down and off your legs.

"When did you get so wet?" He teases, his hand hooks under one of your knees, pushing it up until he can comfortably press kisses to the side of it. Even so, his eyes are fixated between your legs so intensely that it makes you squirm.

You're almost too quick to spit out your answer. "Around the same time, I had your cock down my throat."

 The kissing continues, working ever so slowly down your thighs. By the time his nose just slightly bumps against your core, your thighs are shaking in his grasp. 

All of a sudden, he presses a kiss to your folds, then flattens his tongue against your aching cunt. You jump, startled by the suddenness of it, but he's got you by the hips, grounding you as broad, flat licks crawl up from your entrance to swirl around your clit. 

Good lord, is he a sight, licking and sucking at your wet cunt, absolutely refusing to let you squirm away from him and his hot tongue. What's worse is he looks up at you as his tongue laps at your entrance, nose pressed against your clit in such a way that it feels like a crime. Fuck, how can a man so shy be so bold when he's between your legs?

His tongue travels up again, licking rapidly at your clit and pressing harder when you squirm, forcing you to feel it. You don't know when, but one of his hands has left your hip, and it's found your own, guiding your twitching fingers into his soft hair. 

"There you go," he murmurs into you, and his voice is rougher than it was before, "doll."

You're not sure if it's the pet name that makes you gasp into the open air or if it's the sudden sensation of a calloused finger entering your fluttering entrance. Maybe a combination of both. 

Your body takes him easily; it's been so long since the last time he fucked you; you can feel it in the aching stretch as a second finger works its way into you. You're certainly not going to miss the business of being a royal; the sight of your assistant, your lover, working his tongue over your sensitive bud is one you'd kill to see every waking hour.

"Bobby," you breathe, lungs burning for breath that you can't seem to catch, "please just fuck me already."

His eyes dart to the bedside table, and then, "I'm out of condoms."

"I'm on the pill for a reason," tugging on his hair to get his tongue off you because you're sure you'll cum in just a few more seconds if he stays there any longer, "and I promise you, I'm not diseased."

That's all the encouragement he needs. 

His slacks join the rest of the clothes on the floor with a soft sound, slipping forward until his hips are caged between your plush thighs. His cock sits heavy against your folds; you almost wish you'd let him work a third and fourth finger into you; you've forgotten just how big he actually is compared to you. 

"Are you sure?" To which you nod your reply; words just might fail you right now.

You're much more prepared this time when he touches you, fat cockhead spreading open your fluttering entrance as slowly as he can go. The stretch burns, even with how wet you are; you'll have to add this to the list of reasons why he should fuck you more. It's hard to focus on the discomfort for long because his mouth on your ear is very, very distracting.

His hips twitch forward, and finally, finally, the head pops in. Your head hits the pillow with a thump.

"Too big for ya' darlin'?" Bob whispers into your ear, nipping at the shell. 

"Maybe you just need to fuck me more," you quip, although you're in no position to sass him when you're quite literally being split open on his dick. You'll save the rest of your venom for later. 

The slide is easier now, and yet he's only halfway in, and you already feel so full that you can't breathe. How the hell did you take him before this?

"I promise," grunting, "that when we're out of here, and I'm not risking losing my head, I'll fuck you so much you wind up begging me to keep my cock away from this sweet little pussy." 

"Since when did you swear so much—oh fuck," and just like that, he's bottomed out, and you don't know how you've taken all of him. Any further, and you fear he may find your cervix. 

It's impossible to miss the devious laugh that falls from him, "since I realized you clench around me each time I swear."

Smart bastard. 

There's a good minute where you stay like that, panting into each other's mouths between quickly-placed kisses as you adjust to his girth. Before finally, finally, you find it in you to string a thought together and nod your head at him. 

His hips draw back, and oh God, you're going to be limping tomorrow if he keeps driving into you like that. The pace he sets is brutal, fucking you with slow, hard thrusts that punch each and every breath out of you. Your hands are scrambling, desperate to find a purchase that you soon find on his biceps, nails biting into his skin. 

You don't mean to glance down, you really don't, but once you catch sight of his cock disappearing into your cunt, you can't find it in yourself to tear your eyes away. Not fair. Absolutely not fucking fair.

“Does that feel good, hm?” He grunts into your ear, and now you're becoming aware of the slick sounds he's working out of you. 

Your throat, already raw from his cock abusing it just a little bit ago, aches. What words you're trying to form die before they can make their way to your tongue. All you can do is hum and hope he can understand it between the thrusts that punctuate it. 

If anyone were to walk in right now, you fear they might just faint from the sight of the Kingdom's beloved heir to the throne being dicked down within an inch of their life. Bob's nose bumps against yours as he pumps into you; he looks as wrecked as you feel,

There's a pressure building in your belly, snowballing into a wildfire. The feeling must be mutual because Bob's pace changes, quickening, shortening his thrusts until they've gone shallow. 

"I'm close," he warns, gasping, "where do you want it?"

"Inside," tightening your legs around his hips, as if you're afraid he's gonna leave you high and dry, "inside me, please, Bobby—"

"Yeah?" If you didn't know any better, you'd almost think he was hoping you'd say that. "Want me to fill you up until you're nice 'n full, hm?"

Not fucking fair.

With one hand, he reaches between your bodies, the pad of his index finger finding your swollen, abused clit. It circles once, twice, and then all of a sudden, you're crying out as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. Vision turns white with the force of it, and still, you're hyperaware of the drag of the fat head of Bob's cock as it continues to bully your weeping cunt.

Then he's freezing up, balls deep, as he cums inside of you. You can almost feel it, molten hot spurts of cum filling what little space is left inside you until you're nice and full, just like he'd promised you.

For a moment, all you can do is gasp for breath.

"Don't pull out," you plead, voice cracking, "stay in me for a minute, please."

Bob smiles at that, some innocent grin that has no right to be on his reddened face right now. "I'm not going anywhere," kissing your nose, "promise, darlin'."

"Were you being serious earlier?" You ask him, and you're almost afraid of the answer you'll receive. "About running away from here?"

He hums, "to go live happily ever after?" And he can't fight the goofy grin that his smile is rapidly evolving into. "Well, if you'll have me, I'll take you anywhere you want to go and spoil you until you can't think of anything else."

And it feels so, so simple to say it, "I'll have you."

[valdaycare-au]

The Halloween Update! (since we Mateo Vincent??? MATEO forgot to update the blog.) Part 5

Mateo is the one who is responsible for updating the website but as the last photo is his, allow me to do the honors of updating you with the finale of this... Je ne sais pas, this series? Oui, it seems to be the proper term. Mateo went in as this... hm, how curious. This is... a costume? Really? I thought he was wearing his usual outfit! Madame Ling went in as a nurse—which I was later told that she actually went as Nurse Joy from Pokémon (that surprised me), Kirra went in as Aloy from Horizon Zero Dawn (Sasha a fait un travail incroyable!) And you're telling me that... Mateo wore a costume? This is a costume? Who is he even supposed to be? Himself? The colors don't fit him, he looks so... plain. Mon dieu, what a disaster. I thought he was an architecture student? Why is he—

Quoi merde—Mateo?!

Cabrón, chingas tu madre.You think you can just push me off the computer like that, homie?

The hit was unnecessary, connard!

And so is pushing me off the computer, so now I'm just giving you a taste of your medicine! Take that, tonto!

Why, you—?!?

Yes, me! Go back and work in admin instead of taking care of children since you're so bad at it!

If there's anyone who's deathly bad at something, it's you and your idiotic fashion sense! Why not ask the new babysitter for fashion tips since you obviously need some, asshole!

What?! I don't need fashion advice from him, I'm the reason he dresses that way! I told him how to dress!

Have you told him that you're just as violent as your aunt too?!

(They continued bickering until Sasha put a stop to them both—or, more correctly, Vincent was taken away against his will as Sasha carried him on his shoulder, effectively leaving Mateo to finally do this job.)

Um... Sorry about that. You didn't have to see that, haha.

Anyway! If you ask me, I definitely had a blast at our party! It was just unfortunate that we weren't able to post videos and other photos besides the ones we have with our Little Wonders since we needed consent from the parents and the, well, sitter after party is, um... not really available to be disclosed to the public (let's just say that depressed adults are involved). But enough about that, let's talk about my lil' homies!

First things first, I love Pokémon. I still have my original Gameboy cartridges for Pokemon Blue and Red, I collect the cards, I've played all of them and I have very strong team compositions in all of my games! I thought that maybe the kids would like Pokémon and so I dressed up as one of my childhood heroes—Ash Ketchum! No kidding, I cried so hard when I watched him finally become the world champion from the episode from last year. There's news about the series finally ending, too! So it felt appropriate to give a tribute to my own personal hero.

I was planning to bring my very own 'pokémon' to the party (it was just a bunch of my exotic pets, nothing much) because the kids wanted to see them but I realized that, well, the kids are very rowdy and it would be hard to bring them. So instead I made little pokéballs for everyone!

As for my favorite buddies, I like to think that I'm putting them here because they're fun and chill to hang with! They're absolutely cute, passionate, and adorable, no one can resist these little troublemakers even if they make a mistake.

I absolutely adore Tala's sass and liveliness. She would talk to me about the Filipino telenovelas her moms would watch with her and I love her enthusiasm about learning about her culture this way. She's quite the conversationalist, too, as she never runs out of stories!

Jamie was livid when I gave him the pokéball I made and I know mi hombrecito would appreciate what I gave him. He reminded me of me due to his obsession with the action figure and cartoon character KAY/O. He's quite the lively and imaginative kid and I couldn't be more honored to have a little space in the little guy's head everyday and every night when he falls asleep.

And of course, who's going to forget lil' Sunwoo Byrne? Kid's got a huge appetite, she absolutely loves the sandwiches I made her before! I do think it's cute that both her and Jamie are fans of Pokémon given that they bond over watching cartoons and the like! Makes me feel secure knowing that there are still kids who loved cartoons as much as I did—do, since I still watch them now. They're just fun to be around with, you get me?

And unfortunately I was the last one in this batch. Maybe in the future we'll get to have another one to be included in posts like this? I don't know, but this was certainly fun to write!

[bogartchive]

in sickness and in health [gepard x oc]

a peek into what maria and natasha discussed

warnings: oc x canon. a lot of self-indulgence. no beta we die like cocolia (literally just finished typing this up and immediately went to post it)

main story

-

stupid, stupid, stupid. why did you leave him like that?

maria wanted to talk more with him, they really did. but suddenly the room felt too small and the murmurs from other patients rang too loudly in their ears and the bitter smell of antiseptics was just too overwhelming. gepard was about to say something before they stomped out of the clinic. they wanted to stay, but at the same time they needed some alone time. the tightness in their chest moved up, twisting into a prickly sensation in their tear ducts. with a shaky sigh, they sat down beside the clinic’s entrance, hugging their knees.

the door opened, and maria didn’t need to look up to know who it was. “you alright?” came natasha’s gentle voice. maria released a muffled sound of affirmation from their throat. there’s a sniffle or two before they wiped their teary eyes with their hand.

“he’s awake.” they said.

“he is.” said natasha.

“i.. i don’t know what came over me.” maria avoids natasha’s gaze. “it’s as if an automaton grizzly had been lifted from my shoulders.” their usually calm voice cracks a bit at the end, and they stop to breath for a moment.

lifeless brown eyes met with red-colored ones, but under the warm light emitting from the lamp, one could almost see a faint glimmer. “he is awake.” maria repeated.

the senior doctor’s expression softens. “and you, my friend, need some sleep.” she bends down slightly to cup maria’s cheek. “when was the last time you even ate?” her fingers trace the outline of dark circles under their eyes before gently pinching their cheek. the younger medic doesn’t respond, and averts their gaze once more.

“i’m fine.” maria tugs natasha’s hand away, “i’ll be back in a bit—” they try to stand, but suddenly their legs feel like jelly and they wobble. if natasha hadn’t supported them in time, they would have toppled over and hit their head on the ground.

“maria.” 

“just— give me a minute.” they panted, dusting themselves off.

“maria.” a warning tone. it’s enough to make maria flinch, and there’s a flash of nervousness in their eyes.

natasha sighs and straightens her colleague’s collar. “you haven’t slept for 2 days, much less had a proper meal yet.” her voice was laced with worry, but there’s a sternness to it that would make anyone comply with her orders wishes. “tell me, what does a lack of sleep do to a person?”

“...impaired decision-making.”

“mhm. and as doctors, we always need to be of sound mind. we have our patients’ lives on our hands.”

maria nods slowly in understanding. they glance at the clinic doors. maybe if they could check on him once again, their fatigue would be gone—

“you are forbidden from entering the clinic starting today until tomorrow.”

they gawked at natasha’s gentle smile. “but…”

“i’ve already informed mikkel, and he’ll be here shortly to take you home.” she waves her phone in front of them, and maria could see the faint outline of natasha’s messages to their roommate. if they had dog ears, they surely would have been put down like a kicked puppy.

a hand squeezed their shoulder comfortingly, “captain gepard will be fine. though if you want to check on him yourself…” natasha beamed at them, “the sooner you recover, the faster you’ll be able to do it.”

maria slumps their shoulders. natasha was truly a hard opponent to argue with.

[letstalktea]

Death Won’t Do Us Part

Content: Harper x Reader, Avery x Reader, Reader is dead at the start of the fic and it does not get better, physical abuse, Reader and Avery are implied to be in a more serious relationship, mentions of brain damage

Word Count: 1.5k

This wasn’t you. This lifeless, immobile husk with clouding eyes staring blankly ahead and skin that was slowly losing color. These stiff, cooling hands weren’t the same ones Harper had so lovingly held, disguised behind an unsteady mask of professionalism, each time you walked into their office for a check-up.

Their swirling eyes looked up at the dark brown ones – so dark they were nearly black – staring down at them. “You should have called sooner.”

Avery looked none the worse for wear, even staring directly at your corpse lying in the bed of his guest room which he must have moved you to – or paid someone to move you to. “It took time to clean the mess they made.”

A mess? Rigor mortis was already setting in and Avery was calling your death a mess. Not even an accident. Just a mess.

“And how can I help you with this mess?” Harper hated using Avery's callous words to refer to you, but they also knew the extent of the man’s rage and how easily it could turn on anyone he thought couldn’t do anything to fight back against him. They’d taken care of your open wounds and broken bones plenty of times to know just how dangerous the man was behind closed doors and they weren’t willing to find out just how much lower on the totem pole Avery thought they were than himself.

“Fix it. Discreetly.”

That would have been easier if Avery had called them when you had first gotten hurt rather than waiting to cover his own ass. If they had gotten there sooner, been able to see you before the life had left your eyes and Avery had moved your body – and you had clearly been moved – Harper may have been able to stabilize you. Better yet, if Avery had brought you to the hospital rather than hiding your body away in the guest room, they likely could have given you proper treatment. As things stood now, however, bringing you back from beyond the grave would require a miracle.

They wanted answers, both because they wanted to know what Avery had done to you this time but also because they needed to know what it was they were being asked to fix. 

“How did this happen?”

Avery’s face twisted into anger, as if being questioned was in and of itself a taboo. Now that they had seen the expression for himself, Harper understood why you were always so secretive about your injuries even though it was obvious where they had come from. If that was the face you saw every time you stepped out of line or made even the smallest mistake, they could understand why you never dared to say anything that would risk your safety any further.

Harper wasn’t you though. They were just the person having to deal with the aftermath.

“The longer it takes me to figure out what happened to them, the more time they have to rot. Their eyes are already clouding over and their eyesight won’t be as good as it was. They may even have some leftover joint and mobility issues due to the chemical changes in their muscles. It would be more helpful if you happened to know how they hurt themselves.”

Avery was too put together to click his tongue, but Harper could sense that it was the exact reaction to display his displeasure with the situation.

“They tripped and hit their head on the corner of the bookcase.”

In other words, Avery had hit you hard enough that you fell and hit your head, and that had killed you.

They’d seen your blood many, many times. From collecting it in vials to patching up the less than savory injuries you’d come into the hospital with over the years. They’d seen you in all manners of state. Once, they’d even had to cut your forehead open to pick out shards of glass that had buried themselves deep beneath your skin. That day was awful for everyone involved. They swore to themselves that nothing could be worse than that day, especially after you started crying in fear that your face had been ruined and how angry Avery would be if the stitches left a scar after your wound healed.

Avery always made you bleed, it was just that this time the bleeding had been mostly inside your brain. They wouldn’t know if it was epidural or subdural without further testing, but the result was the same either way; death. Even if they managed to bring you back, a feat seeming more and more impossible by the second, you would have brain damage. 

If Avery would be upset by a scratch on your face, they couldn’t imagine his unadulterated rage when they told him that you wouldn’t be the same person when you came back. Avery wanted a trophy, not a partner. If you weren’t polished to his liking, he would throw you away and get another. 

But one person’s trash was another person’s treasure.

Avery wouldn’t want you if you didn’t live up to his ideals, but Harper would. They would always want you, no matter what you were like when you came back. If Avery would gladly let you go and leave you in their waiting hands, that would be fine. In fact, if the brain damage was bad enough, perhaps they could get you a permanent residency in the asylum, where they could keep a close eye on you everyday.

You would have no more injuries, no more late night emergencies, no more terrifying calls like this one. You would be perfectly safe in a room they would never allow you to leave because they could write that you weren’t capable of being on your own. You would only have to see them everyday. They wouldn't even allow the orderlies to see you. Even when they were away at the hospital, they wouldn't allow another person near you.

Harper tried not to smile because they knew it would give away their intentions.

“May I have a moment?” They asked Avery in the hopes that he would leave the room so they wouldn’t have to try and suppress their jubilation.

Avery didn’t move.

“This will be ghastly,” Harper said, trying to touch on Avery's sensitivities.

He seemed to think about it for a moment. “I expect results.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“And if you can’t do anything?”

“Whether I can or can’t, you won’t find this issue when you come back.” Because, if they couldn’t fix you, they knew Avery was expecting them to get rid of the problem in a way that didn’t cause him any more trouble than he’d already gone through. That’s what it meant to be discreet.

Avery looked at them, then at you. 

If Harper didn’t know better, they would think the annoyance gave way to the smallest spark of sadness when his eyes landed on your placid face. But he didn’t earn the right to be sad about your current state.

Avery left the room, closing the door behind him.

As soon as it was just Harper and you, they smiled. They smiled so widely that their cheeks hurt and they had to hold back their laughter. 

They could whisk you away right now and Avery wouldn't question a thing. They could put you in your new – technically old – room and keep you close. Avery would never look for you at the asylum because he thought the place was beneath him. 

The only flaw in their plan was that you were very much still dead.

No.

You couldn't be dead.

The dead didn't come back to life. No matter how good of a doctor Harper was, that would remain true. You were simply playing at being dead because you were trying to get away from Avery. That was the only way this night could end in any way other than tragedy. 

Harper understood your plan without you telling them a thing and was happy to help you carry it out. They examined the spot where you'd hit your head and reasoned that it was merely bruised. The clouding of your eyes was a trick of the light and your stiff limbs were the result of your tiredness.

You were fine.

You had to be because, if you weren’t, there was nothing they could do.

But, because you were clearly fine – maybe a little roughed up due to Avery's heavy hand, but otherwise fine – they would have to whisk you away from this place. Avery already gave their tacit approval for you to vanish without a word or trace and Harper saw no reason not to take him up on his generous offer.

Harper would gladly keep you.

[itsclydebitches]

Ruby’s angst is a sore point b/c I will always remember her crying over Salem mentioning her mom only to go back to being confrontational and smug to Ironwood and the Ace Ops.

This is why I harp on about tone so much in my recaps. It is crucial to keep things consistent (within reason) because otherwise your audience is going to start doubting the persuasiveness of this characterization. If Ruby breaks down over Summer's death and then immediately shrugs that off, transitioning into smug antagonism, my takeaway is going to be, "Well, I guess she wasn't that broken up about it" and "Well, I guess Ruby lacks the insight and critical thinking skills to realize that turning on her allies is just going to make Salem murdering more people easier."

If Ruby decides to start this battle and confidently expresses the inevitability of her win against Harriet, only to then start begging for them to lay down their weapons after taking a hit, the takeaway is that Ruby back-peddles on a position the moment she's no longer winning.

If Yang rushes to Ruby's side to comfort her while she sobs and then spends a Volume ignoring her equally obvious distress, the takeaway is that Yang is becoming a worse sister, likely because she's putting all her emotional energy into Blake instead.

If Blake was introduced as a no-nonsense activist willing to get up in anyone's face and then shrinks before an angry friend, the takeaway is that she's grown more passive as the series has gone on.

If Weiss loses her entire Kingdom and then spends the first half of the Volume being used purely as the comic relief, the takeaway is that this tragedy hasn't actually hit her very hard and we shouldn't buy into these incredibly brief moments of grief.

If the group says they don't want to run anymore and then the very first fight they come across results in them running away, the takeaway is that these are heroes who talk big, but can't make those promises a reality.

Similarly, if the group hugs and makes the occasional speech about how much they love each other, but then turn around and criticize, become suspicious of, and dismiss Jaune in his ultimate time of need, the takeaway is that their care is hollow and will falter once the going gets tough.

If Ruby spends whole Volumes active bubbly, optimistic, confident, driven, and at times extraordinarily arrogant, but then kills herself after two days of mental health struggles, the takeaway is that RT is willing to use suicide as a cheap spectacle, rather than a real life issue that must be written with care and proper buildup.

If the show pushes a found-family dynamic and then has four members of that family simply stand there while Ruby kills herself... yeah, the takeaway is, "Wow. They didn't care about stopping her much then, huh?"

We know the characters are supposed to love each other. We know that we're supposed to come up with some easy explanation like, "They were in shock!" But if you actually take what's happening on screen - which, you know, is the backbone of analysis - RT continually undermines the core messages of RWBY through badly managed tone and inconsistent characterization. Every scene is a puzzle piece creating a whole and if the pieces don't fit... well, then the picture is nonsensical. It's not the job of the person observing the puzzle to go, "Well, it certainly looks like this is made up primarily of confused colors, textures, and images, but if I just imagine that all these pieces are different from what's actually in front of me, then the puzzle is perfect!"

[drdtfuitgumies]

season 1 summary: may 2024

i've hit 30 situations! this summary is mainly for my personal documentation (i like documenting stuff), but i thought i'd post this in the blog too just in case anyone else was interested!

STATISTICS

to the surprise of absolutely no one, whit got first place, appearing eight times throughout may 2024! however, his first place is because of a technicality, since i counted the pinned post for this season. otherwise he'd tie with second place and our recently crowned "invasive species", arei, who appeared seven times. i know i encouraged you people to let her commit crimes, but it appears i have underestimated the fandom because there's STILL people telling her to steal even MORE stuff in the inbox. third place is charles, appearing five times, three of which happened in the span of five days. bullying him (and making arei and whit bully him) is really fun though!

also, i think now is a good time to talk about how i "plan" out the situations. i try to draw at least one situation a day as a "warmup" before i draw... Other Stuff, and i try to stock up at least a week's worth of doodles, just in case i become unavailable for whatever reason. i also try my Absolute Best to ensure that everyone* appears at least twice a month, whether by picking requests wildly out of order or taking matters to my own hands through the original situations, though a bias for whit really can't be avoided...

*mai and monotv are excluded from this "rule", though i bring out monotv often when i need a casualty. take arei and whit stacking things and arei and j playing mario kart, for example!

PERSONAL FAVORITES (in chronological order)

1) Motivational words from Min

I still consider this one of my greatest creations in my mortal life. maybe i should reblog this on main everytime i procrastinate on something. i'm sure there will be always someone who needs the encouragement

2) Charles holds Eden's yuri manga hostage

this headcanon sucker punched me on what was a normal afternoon, but i'm glad i realized it to this world... even though i barely read new stuff in the first place, let alone yuri. maybe one day i'll find something that caters to my oddly specific tastes, but for now i'll enjoy the yaoi vs yuri memes from afar and let those more qualified than me to verify how true himejoshi eden and himedanshi charles are

3) A regular "PMD Club" meeting

i am an autotroph and need to create one oddly specific self-indulgent situation per month to sustain myself and the joy i have for drawing. i promise this Will happen again. i might even outright sneak in some of my aus, out of context...!

4) Arei steals Charles' goggles

it really says a lot about me as a person that my personal favorites are mostly unserious shitposts, but i've been meaning to draw arei bullying charles with the nerd emoji since... a few months ago, i think? some of the situations are prompts i've always wanted to draw, but am too lazy to do in my "proper" style

THE POWER OF HINDSIGHT

sometimes i think of adding punchlines in the situations, or fix errors after i've put them in the queue, but forget to actually. do them.

after arei stole david's hairclips, emovid's debut would've been something along the lines of arei freeing him from his stage persona by taking away his hairclips. but i forgor.

monotv's body had the wrong colors this one time, but i have since decided that arei got paid by the real monotv to murder a bootleg / defect monotv

as i've mentioned in the tags, teruko on a llama at the machu picchu was supposed to be posted in ace yaps and levi listens' place, but i did an Oopsie and forgot to adjust the queue properly. out of the ~10 posts i had queued up that time, i got insanely lucky that the teruko doodle was the one that got delayed, since i forgot to draw her bandage. ultimate lucky student moment

also as i've mentioned in the tags, if my wii was still working i would've attempted to recreate an actual screenshot of j and arei playing mario kart wii

arei would've have had more time to steal even more things before i put her in jail, but i decided to give her a break this month. i assure you, she will return with a Vengeance.

OTHER REMARKS

i've gotten so, so used to drawing whit and arei. i haven't quite gotten the hang of everyone else yet, though i can draw xander, eden, and charles pretty consistently. hardest to draw is hu, but that's mainly because i can't draw straight hair

i kinda wanna add a subtle pattern to the background…? even just a grid would be fine. also thinking of changing the background color every now and then

i'd like to make an animation one day. it's definitely going to be a shitpost and a very unserious situation, but i'd like to make an animation one day

i expected struggling to catch up with requests, but i genuinely didn't expect about two new requests a day?? i really thought i had to pad out the days with more of my original situations, but i'm actually glad i have such a big selection of requests with a decent variety. Aside from arei's many, many crimes.

if you're still here... thank you so, so much! for reading until the end and entertaining my side project! i've never been a particularly "active" artist and tend to lurk more often than not, but seeing the same people regularly come and leave little comments in their reblogs does something to my heart that i didn't think could ever happen. even seeing new people excites me, because i think this is the smallest fandom i've ever been in? i hope i can keep this blog going…!

[bomberqueen17]

roofin

so this week has been a bit hectic, and i worked the farmer’s market yesterday and still feel like if anyone wants to write an accurate farmer’s market a/u of anything they should hit me up. (hint: there should be more politics and somebody should be a little bit mad with power)

but anyway today was The Big Day for the Roof Going On and it went really well. Firstly the weather was glorious; low 40s (F) to start and then it warmed right up to the mid 60s, clear and sunny, blue skies, very aesthetic fall color on all the leaves. I got my real camera out, it was so pretty. No wind, unlike yesterday. No threat of rain. I have exhausted all my karma points; that was all i could have asked for. It was really just perfect weather.

Cut for pics & too much detail, of course.

We got a crew of five-- Dude came out for this purpose, and so it was me, Dude, BIL, Farmsister, and then I called in the favor for M-L of having helped her move, and she said of course she’d come.

I went out at 8am with BIL, and we tore off the two top half-planks at the roof peak, so there’d be a proper air gap for ventilation. Had to cut out a little strip of the roofing underlayment too, and this made me so nervous, because it meant destroying what weatherproofing I had.

image: looking up at my cabin’s sleeping loft, the sky is visible at the peak of the roof through an opening approximately six inches wide.

But we got all set up, and double-checked the plans and got our materials set up. And then we set to work.

image: the cabin, with the roof covered in green Tyvek, my brother in law sitting across the peak, a ladder hung from the peak next to him and two stepladders in the foreground. Note to the right that there is an exposed bit of rafters-- those are the fly rafters, built off the end of the building to be an extra bit of overhang for the roof. In the background, the trees immediately behind the cabin are a riot of fall color, mostly sugar maples in shades of oranges and yellow and some red, with some of it still green.

I started off being on the stepladder, screwing down the bottom edge of the roof, but I gave that job to Farmsister because my left elbow has never been the same since I overdid things helping M-L move. (She showed up at 10, which was when we’d told her to come; we realized before that that we probably weren’t actually going to need her, so we told her to take her time and bring us donuts. Which she did, because she’s a sport.) M-L then saw me flexing and rubbing my elbow and was like “oh no what did you do to it” and i did not have the heart to tell her, so I just said I’m getting old.

Part of the reason I’d figured ML could be the 5th crew member is that if we didn’t need her, I knew she’d be fine just standing around being the peanut gallery. Anyone else would feel weird or be mad, but she wouldn’t care, and I was right, she mostly stood around and chased down screws the actual workers dropped, and Dude and I were not terribly busy but spent our time carefully prying apart the metal roof sheets which were damp and so had stuck together, and then carefully carried them over one at a time and handed them up to the folks on the roof.

Image: half of the south side of the roof is clad in metal; BIL is on the ladder hooked over the roof peak, and Farmsister is on the tall stepladder leaning on the screw gun as she puts in the screws right above the eaves.

We went up one side and then went around and did the other side, and started putting the ridge caps on as we went-- there were three sections of ridge cap, so one for about every four sheets of roof-- and we found the foam insulation that’s meant to go in as a spacer there, and got that put in. Still need to add the little insulation thingies under the eaves but that’s something for another time. (The kit hadn’t come with those, so Dude had to go drive around to several home improvement stores to find them all in the afternoon.)image

image: Farmsister and BIL each separately operating an electric screw gun, screwing down the metal roof panels in an artistically-framed photo that shows the very blue sky and the brilliant fall foliage of the tree overhanging the cabin.

We stopped for lunch at 1pm with one ridge cap still off but all the roof panels in place, and went in and had a white bean chicken chili that Farmsister had put in the crockpot overnight. It was very good. And we dismissed M-L at that point.

image: This is what the cabin looked like when we stopped for lunch. You can’t see that the last section of ridgecap isn’t on yet. You can see how bright the foliage is all around! It’s so pretty.

After lunch, just BIL and I came back out, and I handed him a few things but then he mostly was just puttering, getting the foam spacers in under the ridgecap and so on and so forth. So I went in and dug out the insulation batts I’ve had in the corner ever since we put the insulation in under the loft where it overhangs the porch, and I put on a mask and a kerchief over my hair and long sleeves and went up in the loft and stapled those batts up until I ran out of staples on the last batt.

It was only enough to do one wall, and not the peak, so it’s not enough that it’ll really be any warmer up there. But it’s something, and it’s a bunch less I’ll have to do later. The rest of the insulation batts are up in the barn loft and I was not feeling up to going and getting them.

We got the last ridgecap up finally, when Dude got back with the esoteric insulating pieces he had to drive all over robin hood’s barn to find. (BIL had also gone and borrowed a set of power shears from the neighbor; the plans said to overlap the last sheets a little extra but the measurements did not actually work to allow that, so we had to trim the edge of the roof to fit; it was too floppy to be left overhanging.) 

Image: this is the last picture I took, which is of BIL still on the roof peak ladder just putting a few final screws in, but it shows the ridge cap in place and the overhang trimmed to fit correctly, and the way the light caught in the foliage as the sun got close to setting.

We finished just in time to go in for dinner. Mom had made steak and mushroom pie, which is just about my favorite thing ever. I’d brought a bottle of champagne, so we had that before dinner.

I am feeling absolutely delighted; it’s not anything tangibly different in living in the cabin but it’s so nice to have a real roof. I’m very excited and I still haven’t picked up all the pots and pans and dishes and trays I had set out to catch drips the last time it rained but I’m going to, and take them in and wash them somewhere, because I don’t need them anymore!!

so anyway. that was sunday. but i got no writing done this weekend, needless to say, LOL. Still. Big news! Big progress.

I kind of really want it to rain now...

[twosides--samecoin]

15 Questions for 15 Mutuals

as tagged by @vault-heck <3 thank you friend, I hope you're doing well these days! tagging @edaworks and @perfectlypreservedpie @persephotea @truebluemeandyou @bokatan @aviatorfics @wolfbirbisme @khazrablood @kremvhstooth

1. Are you named after anyone?

My name is a bit of an "oof". In a sentence my mom was raised by Very Strict Irish Parents and she had me at 18. They disowned us after I was born; my name is her mom's middle name and my middle is the fem version of her dad's name. I have mulled over changing it because we don't have a relationship with them - it's fairly unique being an Irish name and I find myself resigned to it. TMI moving on lmao

2. When was the last time you cried?

I cry every time my girlfriend goes home :'D

3. Do you have kids?

I have PCOS and will hit 30 next year - I likely will never have my own but I am open to adopting :) I really love kids.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I invented sarcasm

5. What sports do you play/have you played?

Judo

6. What's the first thing you notice about other people?

I notice.. a lot - I am... observant about people, to use a word. Whether you feel awkward or standoffish or open or not. I don't know how to describe it. Perhaps it is a body language thing.

7. Eye color?

Bright blue - kind of like the lighter part of a blue portal from, well Portal

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Why not both? :D

9. Any special talents?

One thing my girlfriend mentioned is I can pick people apart like a lawyer can. I can figure out fairly quickly what someone's damage is and put someone in their place. This sounds like an evil skill, but the best way of putting it is I am not going to be dishonest if you act holier than thou or if you think you're special and better than others, and you need to be told to sit down. An example of doing this for good is standing up for people, especially if someone is being punched down upon. If you enjoy being a bully to others in fandom spaces because you feel most comfortable when you're an expert and can control the conversation, and that self perception being questioned is such a problem you think you're being attacked (yet do nothing when a less popular account than yours gets a ton of hate for days while you get headpats from your minions), I'm gonna send an anon about it. Bullies tend to be insecure nerds and I will do my best to call them out behind the scenes.

10. Where were you born?

Atlantic Canada

11. What are your hobbies?

I write Long Time Running on AO3. I am a really big music fan and am a bit of a historian for punk music. I really love my plants - I collect primarily aroid species such as philodendron and monstera but I also really miss traditional gardening. The goal is to get a fraction of a piece of land sometime in the next few years so I can have a proper garden space again. Woooo compost :)

12. Do you have any pets?

I do not and I wish to! I can claim my partner's cockatiel, Darwin. We video chat and it's funny - he and I have intense whistling conversations and he understands I exist but he doesn't conceptualize that me existing through the phone doesn't = me being in the same room. So he tries looking around the phone to see if I am there. Poor baby

13. How tall are you?

5"2. Tiny terror

14. Fave subject in school?

I felt most seen by Language Arts/English. My fourth grade teacher let me read the Lord of the Rings trilogy for a book report instead of telling me I had to choose just one for a book report. I am hopeless if I am not writing

15. Dream job?

Everyone asks me what I wanna be when I grow up, everyone asks me what I wanna do for a job. Nobody asks me if I want to work or not. I don't. I want to be a househusband for my girlfriend and I want to make her lunch and keep her house clean. This said, I am in school to be a paralegal because working and getting an income is important I guess. True Marxist Accelerationism is accepting: money isn't real, be a wifeguy instead ;)

[mpxmaxim]

November 2nd 2013 {Self-Para}

{ Just a little glimpse into the life of Maxim a few years ago to help me battle writer's block }

Maxim was exhausted in so many ways. 

His day started with the cry of the rooster he hated so much, telling him that it was feeding time. All he wished for at that moment were five more minutes of the dreamless slumber he grew so attached to. But when he heard the damned sound echo across the farm again, he knew there was no escape. 

There never was.

His days almost always started out the same way. 

With a deep sigh, he pushed the covers away and was nearly instantly hit with a breeze of the autumnal air that slipped past poorly insulated walls. The low temperatures pricked at his skin like tiny needles and he immediately put on the pair of old sweatpants that were at least two sizes too big and most likely older than he was. Maxim didn’t bother putting on socks before he burrowed cold feet into the thick felt boots standing next to the couch he was sleeping on. He sat back down again, still not awake enough to form a proper thought other than the ones that plagued him every morning. The ones that questioned his life so ruthlessly.

‘Even your own mother didn’t want you.’ Lithe fingers brushed over the faded, pinkish scar near his side to remind himself that as much as those words hurt, they were true. It was the last statement he heard from his guardian the day prior.

Any delusions about a few more minutes of rest were washed away with yet another loud call from the damned animal that was undoubtedly mocking him. He sighed and leaned over to grab yesterday’s clothes. An ill-fitting, muddy gray colored t-shirt that might’ve been white back when it was bought. After generations of hand-me-downs, patches to cover holes and stains that merged with the fabric, it was a miracle that it didn’t just fall to pieces every time he touched that damned thing. His face contorted into a frown when he rubbed his eye with one hand and picked up the two-colored hoodie off the ground to put on next before he finally stood up. Now his day has officially begun. 

With yet another cry from Bingo, the rooster, his gaze shifted towards the single bed of his oldest brother. Maxim knew that under that pillow lay a knife that was sharp enough to slice through flesh with little force. Bingo was one of the few creatures that tempted him to risk Boris’s wrath in an attempt to steal it and make the animal’s death look like an accident. He hated that beast.

Maxim silenced a yawn when he passed by the mattress on the ground that his younger brother was sleeping on. He grabbed the cap that was hanging on the pillar of the bunk bed, where his two older brothers were audibly still trapped in a deep slumber. Brushing his hair out of his face, he put the cap on and made his way past the girls’ room and the closed doors of his parents’ room. He knew they weren’t in there, anyway. From where he was standing, he could see them passed out drunk on the couch in the living room; snoring loud enough to draw anyone’s attention. They would stay there for at least few more hours.

Grabbing the puffy vest by the door, he could immediately see his warm breath show itself in the cold air as soon as he stepped outside. The call was obnoxiously loud now. He disregarded intrusive thoughts telling him to just kick the rooster while he picked up the bucket of seeds and tossed handfuls of it around for the chickens. The empty container would later be used to bring in the freshly laid eggs he’d gather. But it wasn’t time for that just yet. For now, he had to stay cold for a bit longer to feed the cows, the horses, the two geese fatefully named Hugo and Karma and the dwindling flock of bunnies that were barely surviving the cold nights. With a soft tone on his tongue and the feedback of happy barks, he fed and unleashed the dogs. It was his firm belief that he was their favorite family member, just like they were his favorite pets on the farm. 

Every morning this was his routine, and every morning he couldn’t wait to get it done and over with. If only for the only short time, when he’d get to experience the first and only sort of solitude and quiet for the rest of the day. 

By the time he finally got to go back inside, the smell of cheap instant coffee and the sound of chatter filled the air. He briefly tightened his grip on the small bouquet of poppies that he stole from someone’s garden just before he entered and handed it over to Xenia in a silent apology for his behavior the previous day. There was always friction between them. She thought he was a cold-hearted asshole, he thought she was too sensitive and naive. And yet, they made up every time no longer than a day later. 

Grabbing a coffee and sitting down between Sonya and Nikita, he simply observed the chaos. Of how, Boris listed their chores for the day and Shurik reminded everyone to write down what they’d need from town when he and Maxim would go out later. And how at the other end of the table, Valeria was whispering something to Alina and Nikita was describing his dream to a still way-too-tired Andrei.

It is then when Maxim leaned back with the hint of a smile on his face and realized that perhaps his favorite part wasn’t the quiet minutes before he went in. Maybe he liked it loud and chaotic and filled with life and laughter after all.

Suddenly, as one of eternally ten, he didn’t feel as exhausted anymore.

[aranarumei]

tagged by @hua-fei-hua! it’s been ages since I’ve done one of these it was kind of fun lol! sorry for the delayed answers...

1. are you named after anyone?

a couple of ppl assume my name is kiri because it’s like, referencing kirishima from bnha. i haven’t kept up with bnha properly since. honestly since the dabi reveal ch dropped so that’s… nov 5th 2020 lol. I’ve got residual feelings abt it but not much interest in actually reading it (sorry). nowadays I don’t get as much of that anymore—my name is just like. digimon dusk only lets your character have a 4 character name max so I hit various syllables together and keysmashed until it sounded good. im attached to it now.

2. when was the last time you cried?

…today lol. i cry easy when i'm frustrated.

3. do you have kids?

no. I have a Feeling this will be rather unrelatable to whoever I tag so. electing to present my own question:

3 (again). [FREE SPACE] recommend a song?

im gonna recommend Tsuru (en: Bowstring) by koyori / denbolP bc it’s great. I love this producer actually.

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

mm I think im probably averagely sarcastic but like. I do have a habit of like. ex: someone will be like oh where’s [kiri]? when I’m literally right there and I have the immediate impulse to say, completely straightfaced, like “oh [kiri]? sorry they’ve been dead for seven years. they’ve never been in this room in your entire life.” so essentially I like doubling down on things when I think it’s funny.

5. what sports do you play/have played

i played basketball for six years!

6. what's the first thing you notice about people?

i think the first like, physical detail I pay proper Attention to is earrings. just cause I like em. apart from that it’s probably their voice and what they find funny.

7. eye color?

brown. comparatively I think it’s rather dark to the point of looking black.

8. scary movies or happy endings?

i mean I feel like this is a. false dichotomy but I really don’t have a good stomach for horror and stuff so. happy endings ig.

9. any special talents?

talents… I’ve memorized my squares up to 30-ish, so like if for example if someone says 28 I can rattle off 784. I’ve been told I have a talent for talking abt media I like but that’s also something said by my lovely friends lol.

10. where were you born?

on earth. im also electing to replace this with my own question:

10 (again). what made you make a tumblr account?

if ppl look at my blog they shall think I showed up in 2020 but I’ve actually been here since 2015. I just… deactivated my acct by accident when I meant to delete a sideblog. ok. so obviously I remade in that case. I made one back in 2015, though, because I was like, really into hxh and ran into some hxh blogs I was like. in love with. also some fairy tail fic authors I rly respected were on here. and I wanted to discuss hxh and post fic. so I joined.

11. what are your hobbies?

writing! and reading! and drawing! and playlist making. im basic. writing is probably #1 to me tho I rly enjoy it. like for all I complain about it I actually really enjoy the act of like putting down words and crafting stuff and editing. I’d actually love to beta fic more regularly. and get reallllly good at grammar (seriously if anyone has any resources on that chuck it at me) and action scenes. those r my big two dreams.

12. do you have any pets?

nope! i do have a depressing amount of wips I have not taken care of, tho…

13. how tall are you?

5’2” or about 158 cm, i haven't measured myself lately. I’ve been told my various sources that I have “tall person energy” tho. im not as good abt it nowadays but I tend to be a bit careful abt keeping my back straight. at the very least I’m pretty aware of it. I wanna say it was just cool of me to be that way bc I was into having good posture but I’m like 90% sure it was because I read skip beat and I really liked that kyoko stood that way.

14. favorite subject in school?

math by farrrr. literature is dependent on the teacher for quality imo and while I enjoyed it I was always a bit sad that we never did any creative writing. math is just very nicely methodical.

15. dream job?

honestly I don’t have one. like I’d love to publish a book some day but I don’t want it to be my Job. im pretty satisfied just doing smthing productive-feeling and where I have enough free time tbh.

no obligation to answer ofc to anyone tagged. also if you don’t want to answer any of the questions just reject them... I just provided alternates bc I felt like it. i think this is supposed to be 15 questions for 15 mutuals but i dont want to tag that many people... @icharchivist @sunnnfish @dirtbra1n @mxddyhero @heartsdash @watcher-ofthe-sky @estradasphere

[teenagemutantninjatrauma]

I have a bunch of 2k3/Rise crossovers in the brain but no time to draw/write them all right now so I’m gonna write out the ideas here and y’all are free to take them if you want em tbh. 2k12 turts not included because I watched like two YouTube compilations of that show and it made me feel like that one meme of a guy standing at his window with a broken expression smoking a cigarette, but feel free to adapt this with them in mind if you wanna. Enjoy <3

What if they had a paintball tournament.

Obviously everyone is paired up in their colors and given the paintballs of that color, and they play in an area full of abandoned buildings (hey 2k3 fans remember the rat king? Yeah that’s where they play). Blue team seems to have the upper hand at first, but Rise Leo keeps being a loud show-off and dragging 2k3 Leo into it (he complains at first, since HEY that’s kinda ruining their stealthiness, but gradually he joins into the teasing and the jokes and the overall teenager behavior, and it’s nice. It’s fun. He rarely gets to act his age and Rise Leo has noticed this and absolutely becomes an enabler for him).

The Mikeys start the fight off covered in warpaint. This doesn’t bode well for them because orange isn’t exactly a subtle color, but hey, their style is loud and quick anyways, they rush anyone they encounter and are gone within seconds, targets unmistakably hit. Inbetween ambushing their brothers, they talk about superheroes of their respective eras, and 2k3 Mikey brags about being the Turtle Titan (and Rise Mikey is already making plans in his head, when he gets home he’s gonna find a cape, he’s gonna make himself an outfit, he’s gonna.. have to find a way to sneak it past Raph, probably, but Leo will LOVE it), and they try to one-up each other’s moves the entire time. You can tell where in the warzone they are by listening for the occasional mischievous cackling.

The Red team. Oh my goodness. I need to put them under a microscope. They need to interact so so so much dude. I think at first they kinda cramp each other’s style because where 2k3 Raph is impulsive and always just a second away from throwing hands, Rise Raph has a more levelheaded approach, and so they don’t do all that well in the tournament at first because 2k3 Raph keeps bitching about how Rise Raph is just like his Leo, and ironically, Rise Raph says just the same thing about him and Rise Leo. Thankfully though, this eventually leads to them realizing that OH, maybe they gotta balance out the best of both. After that, though, they become an unstoppable force. If they get surrounded they simply break through a wall and escape. They keep trying to sacrifice themselves for each other which for sure leads to one of those “avenge me” moments as one of them lays on the ground covered in paint and pretending to die dramatically.

And, of course. The purple team. The scientists, the inventors. It takes Rise Donnie a little over five minutes to turn his paintball gun into a paintball sniper rifle. 2k3 Don, meanwhile, sets up motion sensors along a perimeter they’ve planned out, and they hunker down in a building with no windows and only one entrance. Anyone who would want to get to them would first have to appear in said entrance, making themselves an absolutely un-missable target. While they work, of course they discuss their newest ideas and creations, how could they not! Every few minutes one of them goes “how did you do that” and the other infodumps about their thought process, until they stop paying attention to the game altogether. Thanks to 2k3 Don’s more proper training, though, he does still spot when the orange team tries to sneak in and catch them unaware, but it matters little when from the other side, Rise Raph crashes through the wall, followed by his teammate, momentarily creating clouds of dust that make it hard to see each other. In the ensuing chaos, the Mikeys stand back to back and blindly shoot around in a hope to hit someone, the purple team sneaks away before anyone can notice, and Rise Raph takes several direct shots at the cost of shielding 2k3 Raph, but it’s worth it, because just then - Orange team runs out of ammo. In panic, they try to get away, and it is then that 2k3 Raph emerges from behind his teammate and mercilessly shoots both of them from a point blank range. (This is also where the tragic avenge me scene happens lmao)

So now it’s team Purple and team Blue. It was 2k3 Leo’s idea to wait and watch the other teams eliminate each other, and it was Rise Leo’s idea to sit a safe distance away from the purple team’s hideout with popcorn. They watch as two teams run in and a third team emerges, having to abandon the safety of their hideout, and like shadows they follow, waiting for an opportunity to strike, getting closer and closer, until Leo finally gives the signal and Nardo jumps out with a victorious war cry, shooting both members of the purple team and hitting the marks- or.. mark? The form of Rise Donnie buzzes and flickers, and then the projection vanishes completely as Don, covered in blue paint, turns around and cackles, waving a small monitor on his wrist at the two confused Leos. It dawns on 2k3 Leo first, the realization, but before he can warn his teammate, both of their shells are hit with a SPLAT! and a splash of purple, and a victorious if somewhat unhinged laugh comes from a building nearby, “I can’t believe you fell for that!” Rise Donnie shouts, standing on a rooftop with his paintball sniper rifle. “Once again, my genius leads to an easy victory!”

“Wrong.” Leos and Donatello gasp as a second figure appears on the rooftop, a flash of red, and 2k3 Raph stands there, his paintball gun aimed directly at Donnie. “Sorry, brainiac, but I promised my teammate I’d avenge him.”

Donnie turns around, panicked, and tries to negotiate. “W-wait, Raph, c’mon, maybe we can both win? Let’s be reasonable about this!” he pleads.

But Raph scoffs. “Ha! How dare you assume I could be reasoned with,” he smirks, and pulls the trigger.

Cheers can be heard from where the Mikeys and Rise Raph had come to observe the fight, and 2k3 Raph gets a hearty pat on his back from his teammate that almost shoves him off the roof. He immediately brags to his Michelangelo and gets a handful of paint smeared across his face, but team Red is ultimately declared victorious. They head home immediately after by demand of 2k3 Leo and Rise Donnie as neither of them is coping well with having paint on their skin, and celebrate by running around with a garden hose. It’s a good day, that one.

[eternalstrigoii]

Fifteen for Fifteen Meme Tagged by @raointean

1. Are you named after anyone?

I don’t think so? I think my mom just liked my name....which is funny because I don’t go by it anymore.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Haven’t the slightest, tbh. Wanted to cry, today. Actually cried? Not entirely sure. It might’ve been the day I found out my neighbor passed only a week after being diagnosed with metastatic cancer.

3. Do you have kids?

I have pets and that’s slightly less expensive but more rewarding. Fight me on it.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Not as much as I used to. I’m more of a deadpan snarker like a proper Addams.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

>shrugs< I’m more of a once-over type. Your vibes do the distinguishing.

6. What's your eye color?

Hazel

7. Scary movies or happy ending?

A well-written movie has both.

8. Any special talents?

I am a goddamned freak of nature. Animals love me, plants thrive for me, and most things I can pick up on relatively quickly and with photographic memory-like accuracy. Until it comes to sports and/or math.

9. Where were you born?

In a building.

10. What are your hobbies?

I haven’t had proper hobbies in a hot minute. I’m going to get more serious about gardening (again) this year, and I don’t count care tasks as a hobby. I’ve gotten fond of interior decorating, the more macabre the better (fuck you, white people who can only design in farmhouse-minimalist-modernism with emphasis on pale neutrals). I sew, but that’s more of a practical skill than a hobby, though I’d like to take up cross-stitch and crochet. Maybe knitting. (You know, more practical skills.) That’s the same way I feel about cooking even though I do enjoy it. I’m learning how to roller skate instead of just roller blade. Learning how to take apart my bike and put it back together so I can do my own repairs (but I don’t know if I can count that as a hobby vs a practical skill, either.) I read. I have a formal degree in writing, though I’m SUPPOSED to do it for pleasure, too. I enjoy the outdoors and am (forcing) myself to spend more time birdwatching this year. ....I have a duolingo. (I think I might actually have hobbies even if I have to force myself to engage with them sometimes)

11. Have you any pets?

That implies they aren’t my kids. I have kitties, pups, fish, and -- soon! -- a tarantula. I had a tarantula. He passed about a year ago. I want another, I just had to work up to emotionally being ready again. My love for lil creatures is limitless. People, not so much.

12. What sports do you play/have you played?

This is gonna be the most “yeah, you’re Goth For A Reason” answer you’re ever gonna hear, but: I was a child ballerina. I did cheer. I also did tap. I also did martial arts for several years. Horseback riding. Now I’m into roller skating and cycling, though the latter is more of a transit + aesthetic thing than competitive. I do also enjoy swimming, hiking, climbing, and being able to out-lift most guys. I also would’ve done kickboxing but the panini hit, and I wanted to attend the Sword Gym in the city, but Expensive.

13. How tall are you

5′6′’. It works out now that I’m built like a werewolf.

14. Favorite subject in school?

English/”Language Arts” for early schooling and Horror Writing in college....for obvious reasons ;)

15. Dream job?

I want to hit the NYT bestseller list so I can make everyone subject to my bullshit on a regular basis. Succeed at everything and retain a captive audience afterward? 20/10, seems like a great idea. (It would be nice to Day Job back with animals, but only part time, and at a living wage.)

Tagging: tbd lemme see which of my mutuals I haven’t targeted lately >)

[rafeny]

Can I tell you...about Sue Laguna Whang

Sue Laguna Whang and I met in the mid-90s during a model casting call. I was working for a clothing company and was put in charge of casting models for our catalog shoots and runway shows. We hit it off immediately and worked together during my tenure there. When I launched my own company and needed a model she did it gratis without hesitation. Over the years, we have kept in touch and she remains one of my dearest friends. Recently, Sue embarked on a new career in body building and after months of rigorous training, competed and won 3 first places at the Johnny Stewart Limitless championship. This doesn’t surprise me at all. She was always a go getter and pursued her passions.

The Sue hobo is inspired by Sue’s relaxed demeanor, her casual lifestyle and her love for craftsmanship. The bag features handwoven panels, a knotted shoulder strap and zip top closure to keep all your personal belongings safe. It’s soft and slouchy and comes in camel or black leather.

Read our Q & A :

1. What is your idea of happiness?

Being surrounded by calmness and having a front row seat to a spectacular sunrise or sunset. 2. What is your greatest extravagance?

My health. I spend a ton of time, money, and energy on it because it’s the most important thing we have. 3. What is your current state of mind? Excited. I have so many goals I’m focused on and I can’t wait to see what’s in store for me and the other people involved with them!

4. Whose style do you most admire? Diane Keaton and Carolina Herrera. I love how they are classic, yet individualistic and sharp. However, I personally get stuck somewhere between dressing like a teenager and an old-school Milanese woman. Cashmere sweaters, Tods loafers, scarf, ripped jeans.

5. What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Finding the proper medical team for my eldest brother when he had a brain tumor. He was misdiagnosed as just having migraines for years. Once we finally found out what was causing them, I was able to get him placed with a world renowned team at UCLA. They saved his life!

6. What is your most treasured possession? No playing favorites! There are a few things I absolutely cherish and they are all in relation to my family. Royal tea sets from my grandmother, jewelry from my mom, Christmas ornaments from my kids.

7. Who is your favorite writer? I don’t have one. I love reading on planes and then gifting the books to the flight attendants when I’m done. They are always receptive to new books! I’ll chose something at the airport depending on my mood and the selection.

8. Which living person do you most admire?

Anyone who isn’t afraid to carve their own path. People who are unafraid to take risks, shake things up, and make use of every moment of their lives chasing goals and experiences.

9. Where is your dream destination?

I love temperate places where mountains meet water. I want to climb the mountain and be calmed by the views of the water, and swim in the water excited at the views of the mountains.

10. What is your motto?

You gotta get ugly to get pretty. It’s true in every facet of life.

And, more recently I’ve added a second one: Stop saying no to things you should say yes to. I can credit that as fuel for all my current life goals!

The Sue hobo also comes in two colors; camel and black.